


The Challenge and the Consequence Part 3 and 4

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 03:42:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6549154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you challenge, be prepared for the consequences</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Challenge and the Consequence Part 3 and 4

                                                                                                     THE CONSEQUENCE

                                                                                                          PART THREE

 

      Limbs heavy as bricks, Brian pushed up and rested on his haunches. He stared at the flushed face, the wilting erection, the half-lowered lids. And fuck it all if his dick didn't start to swell again.  
  
      Why did this kid make him lose all reason, scatter his willpower like ashes in the wind? He'd give up a ball before he'd admit it, but Justin scared him—in ways he didn't understand. And that worried him even more. An entire life cultivating control of himself and others had gone to shit thanks to a drunken meeting under a lamppost. He had no idea what a pandora’s box he opened that night but somehow....  
  
_“I might have even called your name as I ran searching after something to believe in._  
                                                          _You might have seen me running through the long-abandoned ruins of the dreams I left behind._  
                                                          _Across my dreams, with nets of wonder, I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love.”_    _©B.Lind_  
  
      Fuck introspection. It served no purpose other than making you feel like a total fuck-up and exposing your weaknesses. And _he_ wasn't weak. Only out of sheer curiosity, the subject might be worth a look—when he could think with his brain and not his dick. Right now that wasn't possible. Because lust flowed through his blood like alcohol.  
  
     He swiped the head of Justin’s cock with his tongue. When it jumped, he placed a feathery kiss on the tip.  
  
     “Brian! Cut it out!”  
  
     “I didn’t say you could move.”  
  
     “But my nose itches!”  
  
      He laughed at Justin's contorted face. “I have an itch, too.”  
  
     “How's this for a proposition? You scratch my itch. I’ll scratch yours.”  
  
    “You’re hardly in a position to bargain. Why should I consider your proposition?”  
  
     “Because your itch needs more scratching than mine.”  
  
     “Think so?” He puffed soft air across his overheated cheek and into his ear.  
  
     “Fuck! Okay, you win!”  
  
     “What a fucking surprise. Here's my good deed for the day. Don't say I never did anything for you.” He bathed Justin’s nose in moist heat, then swooped down for a kiss hot as lava. The touch re-ignited a need that spread through him like wildfire. He played his body like a musical virtuoso. But he didn't anticipate that the breathless sighs and mumbled whimpers would boomerang and fuel a desperation to finish the symphony.  
  
      With a strangled cry, Justin came again and the force sparked his own explosion. The fiery tingle licked at his balls and blazed through his body before erupting in a stream of liquid flame. Floating in a sated haze, he waited for his heartbeat to return to normal.  
  
      Justin's words tumbled out in between staccato breaths of air. “Any ... time ... you ... want ... to—”  
  
     “Can’t handle the heat?”  
  
     “In your dreams, Mr. Kinney! It’s, it’s just that....”  
  
     “What?”  
  
     “I want to touch you. Untie me, Brian. Please?”  
  
     The impassioned plea and heartfelt tone caught him off-guard. Maybe the restraints were too taut? Maybe the blindfold was too tight? Sixth sense prickles skated across his skin, prompting a sharp-witted gaze at his prisoner. His eyes narrowed to thin slits at the miniscule hint of a smile.  
  
      Or _maybe_ the little shit was playing him.

                                                                                                   THE CONSEQUENCE

                                                                                                         PART FOUR

 

      Brian shook his head in amusement. Shrewd, very shrewd. Justin almost had him. _Almost_ being the operative word. He admired his balls—in more ways than one—and had to give him props for the credible pretense of sincerity. A performance worthy of an award in bullshit. Time to ratchet up the heat.  
  
      He leaned over him to bring the lube and condoms closer. When lips closed around his nipple, his stunned intake of breath whooshed through the loft. Shit!!  
  
      He couldn't stifle a moan as teeth held the sensitive peak hostage, and a persistent tongue flicked back and forth. His eyelids drooped as he abandoned himself to the sensation. He wanted the pleasure to go on forever and was tempted to say the hell with the dare and fuck him senseless. But his competitive ego wouldn't allow it.  
  
      He cautiously separated his distended nub from the determined mouth and pushed up. “What the fuck are you doing?”  
  
      “I only wanted to—” Justin raised his head but he fisted the blond hair, holding him still.  
  
       He wrapped a hand around Justin’s cock and encouraged it to hardness with feathery strokes designed to torment, not to pleasure. When drops of moisture coated his fingers, he moved his lips close to his ear. “Did you honestly think I’d fall for your act?”  
  
                                                                                                              * * *

 **Restless expectancy grips my bones, setting me aflame with a breathy need, cloaking my flesh with a scented dew of arousal. Oh, to be released from this yearning, to lie amid the fading embers of sated passion and tame the raging beast in my chest.**  
  
     

       Justin clamped his jaw shut to stop the chatter of his teeth. The low-pitched voice and the evenness of the words had tinged the question with menace and made Brian too intimidating. Fuck! He didn't know what to say.  
  
      “I, no, it’s just that.... I'm sorry?” He barely heard the words over the rush of blood in his ears. Would they help? God, he hoped so.  
  
      “Really? Are you sorry because you tried to pull a fast one or because I saw through your attempt to manipulate me?”  
  
       Too distracted by the long finger toying with his prick, he couldn't answer. His brain had short-circuited. He didn’t even notice Brian’s subtle shift of position between his spread legs. But he did notice when the digit prodded his opening and penetrated the tight channel.  
  
      “Fuck! Brian!” His nerve endings flared at the excruciating in-and-out motion. A second finger made him bite his lip to stop himself from begging Brian to fuck him _now._ The third overwhelmed him. He humped against the relentless intruders as the center of his universe focused on the escalating pleasure in his stuffed hole.  
                                                     
                                                                                                             * * *  
       Brian sucked in a sharp breath as Justin fucked himself on his fingers. The raunchy sight triggered a visceral need for relief, and without thinking, he fisted his own throbbing dick with his other hand.  
  
                                                                                                             * * *  
     

       Justin burned inside and out. He was almost there...so very close...just a little more. But a familiar sound filtered through his sexual fog like a forgotten memory. Brian’s breathing had changed. Audible grunts now filled the spaces in between his erratic gulps of air. More telling was the distinctly personal arm movement and the wet snap of a hand sliding up and down.  
  
_Fucking shit! He’s jacking off!_  
  
      Back and forth, back and forth—the rapid brush of knuckles against the inside of his thigh matched the rhythm of the fingers in his ass.  
  
     “Oh, God!” There was too much pressure, too much everything. His muscles screamed as he thrashed against the cuffs. He didn't want it to end, but he needed it to end. Otherwise, he'd implode. When Brian splattered him, marking him, _branding_ him, he convulsed in a free fall of mindless joy and pumped out viscous ropes of his own. “Fuck! Oh, fuck!”  
  
      Unable to breathe, he inhaled jagged gasps of air as unintelligible mutterings spewed from his lips. “I can’t! I can’t!” He couldn’t do this anymore.

 

CONTINUED HERE: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/6669784>

 

                                                                                


End file.
